


As You Were

by AwayLaughing



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Brotherhood, Fluff, Kink Meme, M/M, Rare Pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-19
Updated: 2011-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:50:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwayLaughing/pseuds/AwayLaughing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>France and Korea are enjoying themselves in the kitchen when China walks in and things take a turn for the interesting. Idea credited to OP of the prompt, work is my own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As You Were

**Author's Note:**

> This is a silly little thing inspired by a different fill I did, making it a sort of sequel. For the record, from what I know China is saying 'foreign devil' and Koreans have no issues with buttons.

Im Yong Soo threw the kitchen doors open with a bang, causing several of the staff to jump and then quickly vacate the room. Inside, Francis was calmly stirring a pot of sauce as he watched Feliciano scamper happily around, muttering in Italian.

“What's he saying?” The Korean asked, a fine black brow raised as he watched the energetic nation drain the penne.

“Pasta, pasta, I love pasta, pasta makes the world go round,” was Francis dry reply. Yong Soo chuckled at that, placing a kiss on the blond's cheek. Francis chuckled as well, turning more to kiss the Asian full on the mouth.

“Grande fratello,” Italy cooed, his eyes sealed shut and mouth in a large smile, “I'm ready for the sauce!” Francis chuckled again, saying something quickly in French which Yong Soo didn't catch. Italy obviously did as he bounced over happily with his strained pasta, dumping it into the sauce and stirring it together with vigour.

“What type of sauce is it?” Yong Soo asked, freezing as he realized his mistake.

“It's Napolitana,” Italy cried happily, “it is from Napels and has tomatoes and oil in it and onions too and-” Francis laughed loudly, ruffling Feliciano's hair.

“Reste le mon petit fée des pâtes,” he said fondly, handing him the pot and ushering him towards the door, “je suis sûr qu'Allemagne te manques maintenant, va le chercher.” Italy squealed a bit at this, calling 'Germanyyyyyy' as he ran out of the kitchen.

“You never call me cute French names,” Yong Soo teased, standing a little on his tiptoes to kiss Francis' mouth quirked into the kiss at that, bemused.

“What do you mean?” He asked, his hands wandering up and down the lithe nation's back and rear.

Yong Soo nipped at his lower lip, his own hands kneading strong shoulders. “England is mon cher, so is America, Seychelles is ma perle, Canada is mon ange, Guadeloup is ma cheri,” Yong Soo paused, “what the hell am I?” he demanded, not pulling away.

With a wicked grin Francis bent his lover backwards, absolutely ravishing the other's mouth. Yong Soo's hands came up to tangle in Francis' hair, pulling it from it's tie. The Asian's left leg came up to wrap around Francis' waist as the European's tongue skillfully probed and licked until Yong Soo pulled away gasping.

“Le mien,” Francis purred, his nose touching Yong Soo's. Yong Soo looked at him in shock for a moment before he too grinned, pulling Francis down for another kiss while his hands got to work divesting Francis of his shirt.

In turn Francis' hands made quick work of the tie on his cheogori, “why the fuck are buttons so difficult,” Yong Soo almost snarled, face flushing a little as Francis laughed.

“It is a form of torture,” he said dryly, slipping a hand past Yong Soo's baggy paji, making the Korean arch and moan appreciatively, “we wear them to drive Korean's mad.” Yong Soo grunted a bit at that as his pants were tugged down.

“Well they're certainly effective,” he conceded, finally managing to get the shirt open. He didn't bother pushing the blouse of Francis' shoulder, instead just opting to lick on of Francis' nipples.

“Oh that is good,” Francis hummed, and Yong Soo's eyes twinkled.

“Koreans are good at everything,” he advised, grinning wickedly and pulling down Francis' slacks.

“Except buttons,” Francis said, blue eyes predatory.

“Except those,” Yong Soo agreed, “but they're stupid and didn't originate in Korea so it doesn't matter.” Francis laughed at this, turning Yong Soo so he could lean back onto the counter. He opened his mouth to say something, only to be cut off by a very angry sounding someone.

“What are you doing aru!” Cried an incensed looking Yao from the door way. “You, you, you yáng guǐzi!” he snarled at Francis, “how dare you stand there putting your filthy hands all over my-” as suddenly as the triad started it stopped, and a strange look dawned on the Chinese man's face.

“Oh,” he said dumbly, elation slowly building on his face, “oh, this means...” his back eyes widened considerably, a look which used to make Mongols cry replaced his earlier rage “carry on aru!” He sang, whipping around and exiting the kitchen “don't be too gentl- I mean rough France!” He called over his shoulder, practically dancing out of the kitchen.

Francis raised an eyebrow and looked down at Yong Soo. “Did he just call me a foreign devil?”


End file.
